Bobby Lived One Way -- In The Fast Layne

When I heard the old quarterback, Bobby Layne, was at third-and-long in some hospital, I thought, ``Well, that`s Bobby`s down. He could handle it.``

But the clock ran out.

Bobby didn`t miss much in life. Wherever there was a drink to be drunk, a song to be sung, a card to be dealt, Bobby sat in.

I never saw anybody like Bobby. Before or since. I don`t know when he slept, but nobody ever caught him at it.

I remember one election night in a Detroit bistro, closed that day because of the voting laws. I was sitting with the owner when, at a late hour, the door flew open and two Detroit Lions fell in -- Bobby and Lavern Torgeson.

Calling for a few more libations to be screened in coffee mugs, he sat till street lights began to dim, giving me an illustrated lecture on the shortcomings of the Los Angeles Rams as a football team, their problem, as I recall it, being that they were much more suited to careers as interior decorators than interior linemen. The four-letter word he used to identify them was not Rams.

The next morning, as the temperature hovered around 9 degrees, this pride of the Lions was in stocking cap and sweat suit, bawling plays in practice on the turf of Tiger Stadium. For Bobby, life was always in the fast Layne.

Bobby didn`t have the greatest arm, although he was a college pitcher on a team that went 26-0, but he almost never threw a pass where he didn`t want it to go. Bobby called his own plays and would kick out anybody the coach sent in with one.

NOBODY USED THE CLOCK BETTER

He was a leader. He never called time unless somebody`s ear was bleeding or lung was showing, never just to get a play from the bench. He could score quickly if he had to, but his specialty was in using as much time as he had on the clock to win and prevent the opponent from retaliating.

If you had a four-point lead and five minutes on the clock, you had had it.

Bobby went through his whole life on audibles. He didn`t think real men went to bed before the bars closed or the chips ran out. His football teams would have gone through a forest fire for him.

Even though they were beginning to come in at the time, he disdained a facemask. The defensive end who once broke his leg with a cheap shot was run out of the game within a year -- not by the commissioner, by the players in the league. Bobby was popular on both sides of the line of scrimmage.

Bobby smelled the roses along the way. He inspired loyalty, affection, admiration. Bobby came along in a golden age of quarterbacks that included Otto Graham, Bob Waterfield, Norm Van Brocklin, Y.A. Tittle, Tobin Rote and Frankie Albert. When I did a column not long ago suggesting that Graham might have been the best there was, Nick Kerbawy, Layne`s old general manager, sent a message through an intermediary that our friendship might have been severely strained by this shocking lapse on my part.

HE CHECKED OFF FEARSOME BOREDOM

Bobby might have had one drink too many this time. But I doubt if he thinks so. Bobby never could stand a candle burning at only one end. Bobby`s real enemy was not blitzing linebackers, rotating cornerbacks or a charging front four, it was boredom. Whenever Bobby showed up, the party jumped.

They`ve had this quarterback reunion sponsored by American Airlines over the past few years where all the top signal-callers of the game collect for a three-day frolic-cum-golf. ``The Crazies,`` the organizer, Ken George, calls them. They give out the trophies before the competition so the festivities won`t be dampened by any dull speeches.

The reminiscences and anecdotes go far into the night. The star, as usual, the leader, was Layne.

They retell the story of the time he got picked up by the Detroit police as he was headed the wrong way on a one-way street. Bobby pleaded in court that the cops misunderstood the situation because they couldn`t understand his Southern accent. The next day, his teammates hung up a sign in the locker room: ``I`m not drunk, I`m just from Texas.``

In his eight years with the Lions, they won four NFL championships and two division titles -- there were only two divisions in those days. They have won none since.

For once, the clock ran out on Bobby. For once, he hit a defense he couldn`t shred. But if I know Bobby Layne, he`ll shrug and say: ``Where can a guy get a drink around here?``